Disclaimer: Just borrowing the PotC world, I don't own a bit of it.

A/N: Thank You Thank You Thank You for the great reviews. I'm so happy that you continue to be interested in my stories.

Chapter 3:

Ana watched as the redhead sauntered down the street in the direction Prescott had gone. He would have his hands full with that one, for awhile anyway. Shaking her head, Ana realized that while she may have made a friend in Tortuga, she still had no idea how to find Jack. Ana glanced down the main drag and counted no less that twelve pubs, each overflowing with men and women well on their way to becoming drunk. Searching each and every dark corner in each and every tavern in the town did not seem like fun at all. Sighing, she trudged towards Roddy's. Scarlet had said the captain of the small redwood ship was inside. Maybe he could tell her where to find Jack.

Ana stopped just outside of the pub. A man sat on top of a barrel, holding a mug and smoking a pipe.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Aye?"

"Do you know the captain of that ship?" she pointed to the redwood sloop.

"Aye."

"Does he have a name?" Ana questioned, becoming irritated by the man's demeanor.

"Aye. That's Lucky's ship."

"Lucky?" she repeated. "His name is Lucky?"

"Don't think it's 'is real name."

"Any idea what his real name might be?"

The man shrugged, "Sorry, Miss, but 'e's inside. You could always ask 'im."

Ana pushed open the door to Roddy's. The bar was dimly lit and far more crowded than she would have expected for this early in the day. No one so much as spared the lady a glance as she stood by the door allowing her eyes to adjust.

"Elp you, Miss?" the bartender asked once she had slid onto one of the barstools.

"Maybe. I'm looking for someone."

"Ain't we all?"

"I think his name is Lucky?"

"Corner booth."

Ana peeked over her shoulder. A man sat in the dark corner reclining in his seat with his leg propped up on another chair. He was wearing leather boots, black cloths and a wide brimmed black hat that cast a shadow over most of his face. A tattered book sat on his knee and his finger was tracing the rim of the empty mug that sat on the table.

"That's him?"

"Aye."

Ana raised an eyebrow. Admittedly, a pirate engrossed in a book was not what she had expected. Then again, Jack Sparrow had not exactly fit the mold of the typical pirate stereotype. She had just assumed that Jack was some sort of exception. Now, she was starting to wonder if the stereotypical pirate had ever existed outside of children's stories.

"Excuse me," she started as she stood in front of the pirate captain's table. He did not look up from his book. His finger halted in it's path around the mouth of his mug, the only indication that he had heard her at all.

"Are you Lucky?" she asked.

The man closed his book, apparently in no hurry to answer. "That's the rumor."

Ana's breath caught in her throat as she heard him speak.

"Anamaria," he continued. "How long it has been."

"Oh my God."

88888

"Yes, Miss, I assure you. I love my wife very much," Prescott said, for the third time.

Somewhere between hauling Annie's trunk up a particularly narrow staircase and trying to meet up with her at the docks, he had been accosted by a rather abrasive redhead.

"If you love 'er so much. Why ain't she 'ere?" The redhead, who fittingly called herself Scarlet, had latched on to Prescott's arm.

He could not even imagine Bridget in this town. She would be as out of place in Tortuga as Scarlet would be in Kingston. Not that she would ever want to come here, anyway.

"She's ill," he answered shortly.

"Is she?"

"Yes."

"I think you're the one that's sick . . . sick of the little wife. That's the reason she ain't 'ere."

"Well, you are certainly entitled to your opinion," he replied, noticing that he did not exactly tell her that she was wrong.

The woman laughed loudly, apparently proud of her assessment of the situation. She laughed as though she alone knew Prescott's deep dark secret. Bridget would have thought her laughter wholly inappropriate. Bridget did not laugh. She "tittered," and only behind closed doors with the other gossipy society women in Kingston, never on the street where people would see. Annie laughed . . . a lot. Annie laughed like Scarlet.

Prescott shook his head. Maybe his sister belonged in a place like this. A place where she could laugh, and curse and fall in love with a pirate. A place where women like Bridget would not judge her.

He looked down at Scarlet. She was still laughing. Scarlet might have been quite pretty if someone chiseled the thick make-up away from her face. She also probably would have looked quite a bit younger. This was a woman that Annie could be friends with. Scarlet could not care less what other people thought of her. She was a strong woman who knew what she wanted and evidently was not afraid to go and get it, or him in this case.

"Hey," Scarlet suddenly stopped walking. "You ought to go find your sis."

"What?" Prescott was confused. "You know Annie?"

"Aye. She asked me where she could find Jack," Scarlet pointed to the pier, "well, there 'e is."

He squinted slightly, trying to catch sight of the pirate. Finally, his eyes came to rest on a figure standing, bottle of rum in hand, talking to the dock master.

"I told 'er not to bother with 'im, though."

"Did you," Prescott's attention snapped back to the woman on his arm. "Why?"

"He's got a lady somewhere, an 'e don't look for company much 'ere anymore."

"What do you mean he's got a lady somewhere?"

"Some lady 'elped 'im escape from prison last year. 'E's a bit taken with 'er, apparently."

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Will you excuse me for a moment?"

"Course," Scarlet let go of his arm and strode across the street, "I'll find you later!"

She would find him later, of that Prescott was sure. He was somewhat surprised at his mixed feelings. He did not really mind that a colorful working woman had taken an interest in him. More importantly, he was having trouble grappling with what that woman had just told him. Did Jack Sparrow really have feelings for his baby sister? He had not expected to even find Sparrow on this journey. The chances had been slim that he would be in port at this very moment. What he really never expected was to find out that this pirate really could be the man that Annie believed him to be.

"Sparrow?"

The pirate spun around, and Prescott watched in amusement as recognition dawned in this dark, lined eyes.

"Look diff'rent without your uniform, mate," he said finally.

Prescott crossed his arms as Sparrow took a swig of rum. The pirate looked exactly the same. He was healthier, and wearing a familiar looking hat, but the same.

"What brings you to Tortuga?" Sparrow wobbled slightly on his feet as he gestured to the bustle of activity surrounding them.

"You."

"Me?"

"My sister grew tired of waiting for your return."

The pirate's face was unreadable, but his words betrayed his pleasure to hear what Prescott had said. "Anamaria's here?"

"Somewhere, yes."

"Somewhere? I find it hard to believe that you'd let 'er out of your sight in a place like this," Sparrow said, mockingly.

"I told her to wait for me, but I have a feeling you know how unproductive arguing with my sister can be."

The pirate smiled knowingly. "So, you're came all this way just to find ol' Jack?"

"Well, that, and I noticed you seem to be in possession of something that's mine." Prescott turned his attention to the Loyalty bobbing peacefully in the harbor. "I might be of the mind to take it back."

Jack laughed. "Well, as long as you don't murder me in my sleep, I wish you every luck in your attempt." He bowed gallantly as he spoke.

Prescott's eyes scanned the harbor, before coming to rest on the redwood sloop. "Or maybe I'll take that one. Looks faster."

"In a hurry to leave?"

"Of course not. Why would I want to leave this little slice of paradise. Maybe I'll just join your crew and never go back to Kingston." Prescott's eyes did not leave the ship. He never much cared for pirate ships. The were built with speed, not strength, in mind. But, that little sloop certainly was beautifully made.

"I think we could use a cook," Sparrow said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She's no Pearl, but she is fast."

"Friend of yours?"

"Not exactly," he said, giving Prescott the impression that there was definitely more to the story. "That's the Lady Maria. Lucky Laffley's ship."

Prescott fixed his eyes on the pirate. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice definitely louder than Sparrow had anticipated, as the pirate looked startled.

"Lucky Laffley's her captain."

"Why do they call him Lucky?"

"Claims to have been thrown into the sea during a 'urricane. Says 'e's lucky to have survived."

"Laffley?" Prescott repeated the surname. "That's not possible. It couldn't be. Why would he –It's not possible."

"Mate? Do you need me here to have this conversation?"

"It just – We have to find Annie."

"Alright, but –"

"Now, Sparrow." Prescott was already turning and preparing to search the streets.

"You mind explaining this?"

"Laffley," he answered through gritted teeth. "That's her husband's name."

"Thought 'e was dead."

"So did I."

TBC

Well, I haven't done a good cliffy in a while. So, I thought I'd throw one in here. I hope no one minds too much and I hope you like my little complication. Don't forget to review on your way out.